


Hahren

by WritingIllusions (orphan_account)



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Anal Sex, Dragon Age Kink Meme, F/M, I have no shame, Porn Without Plot, Smut, age kink, because it's the best sex, it was so hard not to have Lavellan call him daddy, like groceries, solas eats booty, why plot when you can porn, wtf am i even saying anymore
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-07
Updated: 2016-06-15
Packaged: 2018-07-12 18:48:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,650
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7118164
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/WritingIllusions
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dragon Age Kink Meme: Solas cannot help being turned on by how young the Inquisitor is, even though he knows that it's inappropriate. Ellana has never had a thing for older men before, but finds something incredibly sexy about he Apostate mage. </p>
<p>Smut will be in part two.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>  <a href="http://dragonage-kink.livejournal.com/16181.html?thread=62537525#t62537525">Kink Meme Prompt</a></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Liquid Courage

_She was young. Too young and naive to understand what she was doing to him. The way she would waltz into the rotunda with such youthful energy. The way she would twirl white locks around her slender finger as she read from one of the many tomes at the Inquisitions disposal. The way her hips would sway and twist as she walked to him, questions hot on her tongue._

“Hahren,” she approached innocently enough, but the word stirred an animalistic desire within him. It was wrong, the way his mind raced with thoughts of her naked, sun-kissed body writhing beneath him as he took her. “I came across an interesting read. I wondered what you’d make of it.” She set the book down in front of him, leaning in to him as her delicate index finger pointed to the passage in question. Her scent, a mixture of roses and honey that she frequently bathed in, lit his desire anew and he quickly shifted in his seat in an attempt to hide his arousal. _If she only knew what she did to him._

Perhaps she did know, and this was her game. After all, she had made subtle hints at her interest in him. She’d sworn to protect him and do whatever she had to if the Inquisition turned against the Apostate. She had even initiated the kiss in the fade, which he hesitantly returned, but had not made any more advances since. Perhaps she regretted this kiss, realized that he was twice as old as she and it would never work between them. Perhaps yet, this was her intention. Waiting for him to make the next move as she enticed and coaxed him with words such as _hahren._

“It says here that _‘the Dalish use "Harellan" to mean "traitor to one's kin," but the word does not appear in any elven text before the Towers Age. The ancient root-word is related to "harillen," or opposition, and "hellathen," or noble struggle. The Dalish call Fen'Harel a god of deception, but a far more accurate translation would be "god of rebellion.”*_ Is there any truth to this? If it was a noble struggle, how did my people come to remember him as a trickster?”

Oh, she was naive. Youthful in her pursuit of knowledge, but navie. If she only knew to _whom_ she posed this question. 

“A translation lost in time. Although the origin of the word is correct, who is to say what is right and wrong, what occurred and what did not? What constitutes a noble struggle to one man might be something more akin to deceit for another.”

A loose, evasive answer as always. Ellana pulled the book back, clutching it tightly to her chest. “I wish I could have lived in those times.” Her voice had been barely above a whisper, but he caught every word. Had she lived in those times, he would have taken her in his youth, made her his Queen and worshipped her in their bed every night till the sun rose.

\---

“You are drunk, Inquisitor.” Sometimes he felt the title odd, not befitting the young woman before him. She was but a child in his eyes and yet the whole world rested on her shoulders. A hero to some and divine intervention to others. But tonight - tonight she was just a typical nineteen year old girl, drunk and delirious. He knew he should have gone to Halamshiral to keep an eye on her. Dorian no doubt encouraged her lewd behavior and sprung to fill her glass before it was even empty. He did not even want to imagine Iron Bull and Sera’s involvement.

“I am not drunk,” she protested with slurred words. “I am free, unbound by the constraints of being the perfect, dainty, holy, little savior everyone expects me to be.” She stumbled and he was quick to catch her. The faint smell of wine was still on her lips and he wanted nothing more than to devour them, to teach her a lesson for her indiscretion. 

“I will take you to your room, Inquisitor.”

“No.” She pulled away from him, stumbling backwards before regaining her composure. She made her best attempt at a seductive purr, given her drunken state. “Take me to your bed, _hahren.”_

There it was again, that word that she spoke so effortlessly, rolling off her tongue like honey. He swallowed the knot in his throat, fighting to keep his hunger for her under control. Though he warred with the animal inside, to all outside appearances he was restrained as ever.

“Ellana,” his voice was strict, bellowing. His eyes, the reflection of a stormy sky, darkened with reprimand. “You are being childish.”

“And you are being too uptight, hahren!” No sooner had the words left her mouth before his lips came crashing down on hers. He made swift movements to grasp both her wrists, pushing her back against the wolf murals. Her initial gasp at the sudden contact subsided into moans, her hips thrusting forward in an attempt to reach his arousal. 

His kiss was hungry, feral. He devoured her moans as she parted her lips. He could taste the wine on her tongue as they danced, each soft moan sending jolts of need and desire to his groin. He freed her wrists, exchanging them for the grasp of her hips. 

With their new found freedom, Ellana’s hands moved to his waistband, searching and gnawing at the fabric in a struggle to free his bulging cock. Perhaps her boldness could be attributed to the wine, but in that moment she didn’t care. She wanted him. Spent days on end watching him, studying his features and etching every wrinkle, every freckle into her mind’s eye. Many nights, around the campfire of their tent, she watched his hands, calloused and sprinkled with the faintest age spots, and imagined them making quick work of her clothes. Imagined them as they plunged into her wetness with experience that could only come from age. Imagined what kind of lover he would be, pleasuring herself to thoughts of him.

She didn’t have the courage to tell him. Even the kiss in the fade was on impulse, something she would have never initiated in her right mind. She’d never been with anyone, never imagined anyone the way she imagined him, never felt the desire she does for him. She was inexperienced, child-like compared to him, and that thought tormented her, kept her from seeking his company any further. But tonight, fueled by the liquid courage of wine, she didn’t care. She would tell him what she wanted, let him do whatever he wanted with her.

Her thoughts were quickly interrupted as his lips pulled away. He jerked her wrists back, pushing them against the wall and pinning them there, “No.” He hung his head in the crevice of her neck, breathless and burning. “Go to your room, Inquisitor.” 

He let go of her, stepping back. He refused to meet her gaze as shame finally sank in. _What was he doing? How could he lose control like that?_ “I will see you tomorrow.” He left swiftly, knowing that if he lingered around her intoxicating scent he might not be able to pull away. He could smell how wet she was for him.

Ellana, stunned, dazed and alone in the rotunda, sank down to her knees. _What just happened?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Codex entry found in the Temple of Mythal


	2. Unhinged

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chappy two.  
> Commence the shame(less)ful smut.  
> Someone take this laptop away from me.

“Where is the Inquisitor?”

“In her room.”

“ _Why is she in her room?_ Duke Gaspard will be arriving shortly to discuss important military matters. The Inquisitor must be present **and** presentable.”

He tried to drown out the exchange between the Ambassador and the dwarf, but his focus was plagued, sickened with thoughts of her at the mere mention of her title.

She had locked herself away in her chambers almost a fortnight ago, hiding away in embarrassment, shame, or regret (or a combination of the three) since **that** night. The lack of her youthful cheer was becoming more and more painful to bear for her entire Inner Circle. They were not used to seeing their Inquisitor in this manner, sullen and withdrawn. It made everyone uneasy.

It was inevitable that _someone_ would come looking for him, demanding what _he_ had done to cause the Inquisitor such distress. It wouldn't be put past him. He had done it before, pushed her away many times only to watch her wallow in sadness. 

“Maker’s balls.” He heard the door to the rotunda open abruptly. The dwarf stopped short of his desk, prompting Solas to look up from his research. “Can you two just work out this sexual tension already?” The dwarf was many things. Subtle was not one of them.

“I have no idea what you mean, Child of the Stone.”

“Look, chuckles, my mother did not raise an idiot. Even the blind can see the way you two look at each other.” Solas shifted in his seat at the accusation, recalling to memory times where he might have been less than discreet. 

Had his eyes lingered too long on her during one of their expeditions, glued to the curve of her soft thighs as the crackling campfire illuminated her skin? Or perhaps the dwarf, in such close proximity to the rotunda, overheard the exchange between them **that** night? Did he hear the way she called to him, they way she called him _hahren_ as she begged him to bed her? Did he hear her soft, delicious moans or the slick, hungry noises as their tongues danced? 

Solas cleared his throat, wishing to clear his mind from recalling that night. He was thankful for the mahogany wood of his desk as it obstructed the dwarf’s view. He was painfully _hard._

The dwarf was ever observant with a taste for stating the obvious. “So she’s young enough to probably be your daughter, so what? She obviously wants you and you obviously need to let loose. Your old age is showing.” The dwarf shook his head with a laugh akin to disbelief. “I don’t get you, Chuckles. Most men in your years would jump at the opportunity to bed a woman half their age.”

Solas shifted again, uncomfortable in his now tight breeches. He did not need to be reminded of their age difference. “I am not most men, Child of the Stone.” He wanted to add something along the lines of _that is the Inquisitor you speak of, do so with some respect,_ but thought better of it. He would be a hypocrite to chastise the dwarf for the way he spoke of the Inquisitor, when his own thoughts were so much more perverse. Sinful.

“Shit, you ain’t gotta tell me.” The dwarf turned to leave, slumping his shoulders slightly in defeat. But he stopped, turned back to look at the elf so glued to his books and lore, and said the words that would lay the foundation for his evening. “She wants you. So why are you holding back?” 

Why, indeed.

\---

Ellana had spent the past two weeks in bed, occasionally getting up to meet with her advisors or grab another bottle of wine before retiring to her previous position: sprawled down on her bed and staring up at the ceiling while contemplating her life choices. Today was no different. She was down half a bottle, knowing full well that she had a meeting with the Duke. But she didn’t care. She had feelings to drown. Guilt, shame, lust. 

The red liquid did little to ease her mind. She could not get him out of her head. Though she had been intoxicated, she could recall every last detail that night after the ball. She strode into his study, resolved to finally make her desires known, to have her fantasies of this older man play out before her. 

She recalled the steady grip he held her wrists in and felt the coil of desire deep inside her as she imagined what those strong, experienced hands would feel like on her waist, gripping and guiding her as she rode him. _“Just like that, da’len,”_ he would praise her, _“come for me.”_

Ellana gripped the white sheets beneath her body as her mind raced with scenarios, each more scandalous than the next. She fought back the urge to dip her fingers in her cunt, to finish herself to thoughts of him. But it was a battle she had lost many times before and tonight would be no different.

Well, tonight would have been no different if he had not interrupted her. “Inquisitor.” 

He was at her door. Of all people, why did he have to be at her door? Why now? She offered a faint reply, “Yes?”

“May I come in?”

 _No._ She was disheveled, ill-dressed and unprepared. She couldn’t remember the last time she brushed her hair: two, three days go? Maybe longer? He couldn’t see her like this. But he became impatient in his wait for her reply and, before she could stop him, she heard the sound of the wooden door creak as he let himself in. 

Eternity seemed to tick by as she waited for him to reach the top of the stairs, each step bellowing like thunder in her ears. She had not seen him since that night, since her stupid, intoxicated, childish stunt. Gods, what must he think of her now after that display?

As he ascended the stairs, she found the strength to move from her bed and greet him, though she wished the damned Orlesian contraption would just swallow her whole. She quickly combed through white locks with nervous fingers and adjusted her tunic.

“I thought we might talk.” He stopped before her, assuming his typical stance; tall, shoulders straight and hands clasped together behind his back. Maker, he looked irresistible like that, full of authority, knowledge, power, and a hint of smugness. It was odd that she found arousal even in his stance, but there was little about him that did not turn her on.

She already knew where this was going, “Look, about the other night, I’m-”

“There is no need to apologize, Ellana.” He interrupted her, his stern gaze holding hers, unwavering. He called her by her name, not her title, and it unnerved her. She waited, watching him with keen eyes, her body fidgeting under the pressure of two stormy orbs. _What was going through that mind of his?_

He sighed, “We must address the issue nonetheless, da’len.” Issue? As if her feelings, her need for him, was something she could control, something she needed to work on, like a child who just disobeyed their parents. She could not speak for fear that her voice might betray her.

But he was right. They would have to address the **issue** if she was to move past this. If she was to do anything more than sulk within the confines of her walls.

“What is it you want from this?” The question caught her off guard, his voice stern and ridden of emotion. “I am old enough to be your father, Ellana. Too old for such games. Surely there are younger men in our organization who can entertain you.” He was berating her again, like some child, as he did so very often. 

She wondered why he persisted in this charade. Why did he not share her bed when she practically begged him to? If she didn't know better she would think he found her unattractive, but the few times his mask slipped were proof against that. He would not have been so easily aroused that night if he did not want her.

“I’m not a _fucking_ child, Solas.” She matched his fierceness, unrelenting in her confession to him. Perhaps the red Antivan vintage was partially to blame, or maybe she just had enough of his shit. She would lay it bare, empty herself of these thoughts and feelings in hopes that it would cure her unhealthy need for him.

“And this isn’t a fucking game. Do you think I like putting myself through this? Do you think I revel in the way you turn me down whenever I try to get close to you?” He opened his mouth to retort, but abruptly closed it when she continued her rampage. 

“I can’t help that I want you. I can’t help that I’m attracted to you, to your knowledge, your being, and, yes, even your age. Perhaps I am to blame as I'm sure my fantasizes of you add fuel to my desire, but what is so wrong with that? Because you’re older?” Her emotions were raw, her voice strained. She would have rather stared down Corypheus than be under the scrutiny of **his** glare. His eyes darkened, narrowing.

His intent for coming to her tonight had been mixed. Part of him wanted to give in, to show her just what she was so foolishly asking for. The other, more sensible part of him thought this all wrong and came to coax her out of her depression and back into the world. The latter had been winning, up until now. He feared what was to come. He feared the slip of his control.

She waited, searching his eyes for some sign. Did her words get through to him? Would he just stare at her, stone-faced? Why did she even bother?

“Ir abelas,” she spoke, finding no relent in his gaze, “forget I said anything.” She turned around and walked back to her bed to down the remainder of that bottle. This marked the second time she made a fool of herself. It would be the last.

But she could not reach her destination and drink herself to blissful ignorance. His body, lean and hard against her back, had pressed itself to hers, cutting off her movement. She stood frozen in place with wide eyes as his hand wrapped around her, not knowing what to make of it. 

She felt a cool tingle against her neck as his fingertips brushed her white locks to the side. He settled in the crook of her newly exposed skin, his lips hovering but never touching the golden flesh. 

“Is this what you really want, da’len?” His breath tickled her skin, setting it ablaze with burning desire. Her body shivered involuntarily. His voice was low, husky and laced with dark promise. She could feel his hard erection against her backside and the thought of what was to come made her delirious with need. He had lost control. 

“Yes,” she managed to gasp out. 

“Ma nuvenin.”

He pressed his lips against her burning flesh as his hands rested on her hips. She let her head roll back onto his shoulder, moaning softly at his touch. She had waited so long for this moment. She wasn’t sure if this was reality or a trick of the fade. But he felt so real.

He continued to nib, graze, and suck on her soft flesh. His hands trailed to the front of her shirt, busying themselves with the long row buttons. One by one bent to his will, coming undone and clunking against the wood floor as her shirt pooled around her feet. Her breasts were exposed to the cool air, perked and erect. 

His hands found purchase in them, kneading the soft flesh between both hands as he bit down on her neck. She moaned again, louder this time. If she was so bothered by this simplicity, he could not wait to hear what she sounded like when he finally filled her. 

But she would not be outdone. She would not let her inexperience work against her. As he continued to make work of her breasts, pinching and twirling her erect nipples between calloused fingers, she trailed her hand down to his thigh and searched for his erection. He groaned as she gripped him, cupped him in her dainty hand and began to stroke the length of him through green fabric. 

His left hand reached down to catch her own, effectively stopping her machinations. He nibbled at her ear, “Slow down, da’len. We will get there.” He was selfish. He wanted to pleasure her first, to touch her first, to taste her first. 

“Lie down.”

Ellana shivered at the command and his sultry voice. She stepped forward as his hands fell back to his sides, slowly making her way to the bed. 

She obeyed, but not before undoing the buttons that held her breeches together. With back still facing him, she slowly began to wiggle the tan leather down her legs, the material resistant against the thickness of her thighs.

It was a sight to behold. The way the leather clung to her as she pulled it down. The way her ass swayed and twisted as she bent down to step out of the leather restrictions. Oh, she knew what she was doing and he knew this little game she played. 

“Down, da’len.” He ordered again, impatience coloring his tone.

She crawled on top of the cotton sheets, slowly, sensually. Her ass twisted: _left, right, left, right_ , as she crawled further, rolling her hips from side to side. He wanted to wait till she was on her back, spread open for him. He wanted to control himself. But she was asking for it. 

And he could only take so much. 

Ellana continued her little dance till she thought she had teased him enough, ready to turn on her back and lie down for him. But she couldn't. Not with the way his hands caught her hips, not with the way his fingers dug into her thighs as he pulled her back. She gasped in surprise but it was quickly drowned out by moans as his tongue filled her cunt, his face buried in her ass.

Maker, she didn't know what turned her on more. She had never done anything like _this_ before. It seemed so natural for him, as if this behavior, this position was not considered raunchy, lewd, filthy. She wondered how many women he had been with. How many had he pleasured this same way?

His deliciously sinful tongue slid across the length of her, expertly gliding across her folds. She grasped at the sheets, her knuckles beginning to blend in with the white cotton as all thought left her. 

She had imagined his moment so many times, but it did not compare. The feel of his tongue, the way his face delved into her as if he were a man starved and she a feast. 

She gasped again as his tongue trailed higher, reaching her anus. She would have blushed had she been in the right state of mind. But she was high. And he was her drug. He licked, lapped at her hole and she threw her head back with hearty moans. _Maker, the things he was doing to her._

“Shh, da’len.” She felt his breath, hot against her skin before he resumed eating her out. “Let us not alert all of Skyhold.”

Fuck them. She didn't care. At this moment, Corypheus could burn them all to the ground and she would not care. She wanted this. Him.

With her hole well prepared and slick with his saliva, Solas return his attention to her cunt. He felt the slight jerk she gave at having lost that particular sensation, but it was quickly forgotten when one long, nimble finger entered her as replacement for his tongue. 

The feeling was unlike anything she had ever felt. She'd fingered herself many times, almost always to thoughts of him. But she had never fingered her ass. She wondered who this man really was. He was always so quiet, reserved and well-mannered. But right now, right here as he fingered her ass, he was a man unhinged, undone by her sultry moans. 

She felt so full from one digit as it expertly glided in and out of her ass. His tongue continued in its assault, finding rhythm with his finger. She couldn't help bucking against him, pressing her ass further back into his face as she chased her orgasm. Maker, she was close. **So. Fucking. Close.**

Her hands clawed at the sheets. “Hahren, I'm gonna come,” she pleaded, begged. “I'm so close!” He continued the rhythm he set and it wasn't long till he felt her tense, rigid as her orgasm washed over her.

The sensation that had been growing in the pit of her stomach exploded, resulting in momentary loss of her vision as an intense, shattering orgasm rippled through her body. She was numb. Unable to move and useless against this feeling he elicited from her. 

But it soon passed. She calmed down and he slowly came to a halt, pulling his finger out of her and stepping back. “Sit up.”

She did as she was told, albeit absentmindedly since her body and mind were still in a euphoric trance. He made quick work of his clothes and she would have marveled at the sight of him if she had not been so high off his drug. 

He laid down, grabbing her and pulling her on top of him as he did so. She sat there, straddling his chest as her hands traced his muscles. He was remarkably fit for a man his age. Toned arms held onto her hips tightly and fingers bruised her skin. 

She remembered her fantasy earlier, of riding him, and without much thought began to slide her body lower, searching for his erection. But his hands stopped her, stilled her movement. She looked up at him.

“I think I deserve to taste my reward, da’len.”

She wasn't sure what he meant at first, but it became clear when he hooked his arms under her thighs and glided her back up to his face. He was strong, despite his lean physique. Very strong. And she wasn't the typical, starved Elven maiden. She had curves, thick thighs and a round ass. And for him to so easily lift her up to his face was impressive. 

His face. Which was right underneath her as his tongue did unholy things to her cunt. She felt him dip into her, lapping at the juices of her orgasm. Embarrassment was a thing long forgotten, else she would have blushed and protested that this position was perhaps uncomfortable for him. Suffocating even. But he had lapped at her ass as if she were an oasis in the desert, and if that had not embarrassed her, nothing would. 

She clung to her headboard, trying desperately to find something to stabilize her. She was gonna come again. And so soon.

His strong arms were still wrapped around her thighs, holding her down to his face, keeping her from squirming away. She tasted tart, a pleasant flavor he was sure came from her massive amount of wine consumption. 

It wasn't long before she began to grind against his face, searching for her climax in a desperate frenzy. Oh, how he loved this. How he loved watching her face as it twisted and contorted with desire. Pure, unfiltered desire for him. 

“Don't stop,” she begged, “please don't stop.” She was desperate. So close but unable to finish. He knew how to send her over the edge. 

“Come for me, emma lath. Show me how good I make you feel.”

Her body shivered and goosebumps peppered her skin at the sound of his voice. She loved his voice. She always asked him about the fade or anything she could find really, not because she was interested in learning, but because she loved listening to him talk. And now that voice was coaxing her to finish and it became all too much. 

“Come for me, Ellana.”

She let some obscene words slip past those delicious lips.

“That’s it, da’len. Be a good, little girl.” 

She threw her head back and his grip became tighter, holding onto her as her orgasm rocked through her, shaking her body violently against him. She screamed for him, praising him with countless _fuck yes_ and _oh my god._ He continued to circle around her clit, occasionally licking the juices that that slowly dripped out of her, until she began to whimper, sensitive to his touch. 

They remained there. She wasn't sure how long. Minutes. Hours. Perhaps seconds. Neither of them moved as she came down from her orgasm. She finally found her voice. 

“How do you want me, hahren?”

His reply wasn't immediate. He contemplated. Should her take her lying down, whisper sweet nothings into her ear while he lay on top of her? Or should he give into his nature, be the animal that he was and fuck her on all fours?

“On your hands and knees.” 

She complied, quickly. In one swift movement, she was off him and assumed her position as he angled himself behind her. His eyes roamed the golden skin. The way her cunt still glistened with juices. 

He wanted her to remember this. He wanted to be the first, the one that opened her young mind to the kinkier side of sex. The more pleasurable side. He knew what he wanted. But would she let him? 

Slowly, he brought his cock to her cunt and rubbed it against her cum. It coated his cock beautifully and he marveled at the sight. She was so wet for him.

“Hahren,” she managed to croak out. “Please don't tease me.”

He smirked. “Of course. Forgive me, da’len.” 

She expected him to enter her, braced herself for it. But he did not. Instead, he pulled back ever so slightly and readjusted himself. He pushed down on the small of her back, a silent request for her to go lower until his cock was brushing up against her ass. She gasped. _Was he…_

“May I?” 

It was strange that he should ask, but he felt that the act was so private, personal, invasive. He needed her permission. Wanted it to hear it. 

She shivered again. “Yes.”

He didn't slam into her. He didn't dig into her thighs with his nails. He didn't tangle his hand in her hair and yank her back in carnal desire. 

Instead, he slowly eased himself into her. Allowed her to adjust to his well-endowed size. At first she wailed at the intrusion, unable to focus on anything else but the pain of her walls ripping for him. He brushed his thumb across the skin of her ass and thighs, making languid circles in an attempt to calm her. “Shh. It will be over soon, da’len.”

It was a long process, painstakingly slow as she opened for him. But she did. As promised, the pain subsided and pleasure took over. It was easy enough to move in and out of her ass after she adjusted, her cum providing the perfect lubrication. He picked up pace, thrusting into her with more fervor. _It was incredibly filling._

She began to chant obscenities again, throwing words like _fuck, shit,_ and the occasional _Maker take me_ into a pile. He loved it. Loved the feel of her tight ass as he pulled out and dove back in. Loved the way her knees grew weak and her thighs began to quiver for him. 

He was doing things to her, giving her sensations she never thought possible. She felt so unbelievably full. Each stroke was a small wave of pleasure and she knew the hurricane that was to be her orgasm was not far off. 

He watched her as she brought her hand down to her cunt, making furious half circles around her clit. He chuckled. The woman before him, Thedas’ savior, the leader that always made sensible decision, the woman with polite speech, always careful not to hurt anyone: polite, reserved, innocent. But right now, for him, she was anything but. And he relished in it. 

She wanted this feeling to last forever. The fullness of him fucking her ass, picking up tempo as her moans grew louder. But it was short lived. Between his cock and her fingers, she was undone. Her vision went black as she shut her eyes tightly, his name spilling from her lips. She lost control of her arm, unable to pleasure herself through her orgasm, as a euphoric sensation washed over her. She felt light-headed. Weak. Drained.

Her body shuddered and she could feel him tense behind her. He groaned, calling out to her, fingers gripping at her soft flesh as he came. He emptied himself inside her with slow, long thrusts. He was panting heavily.

He didn't pull out of her, not right away. He wanted to remain like this for a little while longer. He wanted to remember the feeling of her tight ass around his cock. He wanted to savor it. She didn't move and he was glad for it. 

They stayed like that, each trying to regain their composure. They weren't sure when exactly they untangled, but eventually he pulled out of her. Her body was weak, her arms shaking and tight from the strain. She fell on the sheets. Naked and sweat-soaked as his cum began to spill out of her. It was a beautiful sight. This young, innocent but determined, soft-spoken but powerful woman who had allowed him the gift of her body. He loved watching his cum drip down the folds of her cunt and further still to her luscious thighs. 

He smiled to himself, deciding that he would enjoy this moment with her. He laid down next to her and pulled her close to him. She rested her head on his shoulder as he wrapped his arm around her. He traced some unknown patterns across the small of her back, humming a melody that was foreign to her.

He would reprimand himself tomorrow, tell himself that this was wrong, that she deserved better. It would be hard to avoid her, harder still to cease conversations. He could not let this continue. But for now, he would enjoy this moment with her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ummmm.
> 
> So I had a really hard time with this. I am complete trash for dominant/rough/fuck-the-shit-out-of-me(not literally) sex. I tried to stay true to the prompt and give you guys something slightly more sensual ~~although it was so tempting to make Lavellan call him daddy just once~~. I don’t know how well that came across ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯
> 
> P.S. My Inqy has thick thighs. Why must all Elves be so lithe? Don’t they know that thick thighs save lives? Cause my Lavellan sure does ;)
> 
> Feedback would be great. I would love to improve on my writing <3


End file.
